


I'll Pencil You In

by jackotah



Series: Nothing Made Me [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Asperger's Sherlock, Autistic Sherlock, M/M, POV John Watson, Talk of Anal Sex, Talk of sex acts, Virgin Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 21:14:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5800348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackotah/pseuds/jackotah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sighing, John looked down at his toast. He wasn't averse to talking about this. It was just the bluntness that knocked him off balance. Sherlock did have a way with getting straight to the point, on some topics anyway. "I'm going to eat my toast and drink my tea, and then I will have this conversation." Best to be clear.</p><p>"Alright. Should I be silent?"</p><p>"Please."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Pencil You In

"Will you be wanting to engage in anal penetration?"

John nearly choked on his bite of toast, and the rest of it fell back to the plate with a soft clink. He blinked a few times, staring across the kitchen table at Sherlock, whose eyes hadn't left the specimen of moss under the microscope. "I'm sorry...?"

"Anal penetration, John. Anal sex, if you like. Surely you know it involves one partner-"

John quickly swallowed a sip of tea just in time to cut him off. "I know what it is, Sherlock. It's just- I woke up ten minutes ago, can I just... have a second here?"

"Of course. Please do waste all the time in the world."

John groaned, rubbing at his still unwashed face. "You're awful free with the sarcasm for someone who needs me to point it out to him constantly."

"And I'm very thankful, John. Have you had your 'second' yet?"

Sighing, John looked down at his toast. He wasn't averse to talking about this. It was just the bluntness that knocked him off balance. Sherlock did have a way with getting straight to the point, on some topics anyway. "I'm going to eat my toast and drink my tea, and then I will have this conversation." Best to be clear.

"Alright. Should I be silent?"

"Please."

The toast was mildly burned on the edges, and John scraped the blackened bits off absently while he chewed on the other piece. Just butter today, he hadn't trusted the look of the beans or their proximity to the unlabeled dish of black granules. _Am I chewing slowly?_ He felt like he was chewing slowly. Sherlock would surely notice that. He sped up, took a sip of his tea, started on the second piece of toast. Perhaps he shouldn't have told Sherlock to be silent.

When the toast was gone he stood and took his plate to the sink. He leaned back against the worktop, arms crossed as he smiled at the back of Sherlock, whose eyes were still trained purposefully on the microscope. Slender fingers made an imperceptible adjustment to the lens.

"Hey," John said softly.

"You haven't finished your tea yet."

"I know." John set his cup down on the table again and leaned down into Sherlock's field of view. At last the grey-green eyes flicked toward him. "Hi." John smiled warmly.

"Hello...?" Sherlock's brow furrowed with confusion, his eyes darting over John, frantically trying to assess. “Are you quite well?”

John licked his lips. "Can I kiss you?"

Sherlock's eyes dropped away, but not before John saw them darken. "Yes."

Leaning in, John pressed a gentle kiss against Sherlock's lips, catching the lower one just slightly between his own. He kept it simple, rather dry. Sherlock had made it more than clear that sloppy tongue kisses were- _what had the word been?_ \- _revolting_ , and John had no intention of causing that amount of hand flapping again. So he pressed another soft kiss to Sherlock's brow before standing and returning to his chair.

"I've never been on the... receiving end of it," John began. "But I have done it. Only with women though. With... various degrees of success."

Sherlock looked at him as if he'd forgotten the conversation entirely, then turned back to the security of his microscope. "But my question was if you would want to do it in the future. With me."

John sat back and picked at his thumbnail, trying to imagine it. It hadn't specifically been a fantasy of his, but it wasn't unappealing either. "I don't know. Maybe? I'm not going to say no. I haven't really tried anything that I didn't like so far."

"So you might want to have anal sex with me in the future?"

"If you want a specific answer right now, yes, I might want to."

Sherlock stilled, drawing in and releasing a deep breath. "Okay. That's settled." He looked up at John briefly and gave what John knew to be his best fake smile before gathering another sample of moss.

"No... not exactly settled." John leaned forward again, narrowing his eyes. A small ping of warning sounded in his mind. "Is that what you want? There's lot of other things we could do instead."

"I did just say I would do it, John."

John's face screwed up into a grimace. "See that's not the same as wanting to though."

"Tedious." Sherlock dropped a cover slip over the new moss and carefully slid it under the lens, fastening the slide in place with the two small arms. Silence. 

_He's pulling away_ , John thought. _I'm losing him._ Sherlock's tea still sat untouched on the safe side of the microscope. John stood and took up the cup, removed the bag, and placed the tea in the microwave. "It isn't as good reheated, you know. You should try drinking it when I bring it to you." _Back off, banter, let him regroup._

Sherlock only hummed in response, but he did take a sip when John returned the tea to him.

Eventually, John settled into his chair, taking up the newspaper Mrs. Hudson had brought them, determined to sit and read or pretend to read until Sherlock was ready. Unfortunately, he wasn't quite certain how long that would take. It seemed the entire situation between them was littered with booby traps, and on this particular topic, he had absolutely nothing to go on.

So he read the headlines (something or other about the UN), then sports (only the smallest section about rugby), then tech (which made him feel old), then arts (ha!), and just as he was about to turn to business-

"I must congratulate you on your deduction, John. I do not want to do it."

John smiled to himself in relief, still holding the paper. Slowly, he was learning how to navigate this. It was no easy task. "Don't I at least deserve a 'brilliant' or something?" he quipped over his shoulder. Sherlock chuckled behind him in response, deep and genuine. "Anything else then?"

"If you want the truth- and all evidence leads me to believe that you do- I'm afraid I lack practical knowledge in most everything else regarding sex."

There was a pause while John considered his response to that rather enlightening bit of information. How could someone know all the intricacies of... _that_ and not know about the rest? “That's alright,” he began, trying to sound casual. “I'm sure you'll be able to come up with something I haven't tried either.” He turned the page of the newspaper though he hadn't read a word.

There was a silence, with only the soft tinkering sounds of glassware behind him. “And what would you recommend we try first?” came Sherlock's voice, intensely curious.

That curiosity suddenly had John's body listening very intently. He cleared his throat before he could catch himself, shifting a bit. “I don't know, something with just... hands maybe. Something simple.” _I won't be lasting long anyway_. 

“Well, you are the expert. Whatever you think is appropriate.”

John swallowed, thankful Sherlock couldn't see his now obvious erection. “Yes, well. Anything... on today then?” He crossed and uncrossed his legs, waiting for the answer.

The following silence was long enough that John ventured a glance over his shoulder. Sherlock was frozen, face still close to the microscope but eyes cut to the side, staring at John.

“John, if you're asking-” He stopped, squinted his eyes further. “You want to have sex with me today.”

 _Well, there's no denying it now._ “Er, yes, but the feeling isn't exclusive to this particular day. We can... you know... whenever. Whenever you're ready.” He scratched absently at his hair, watching Sherlock from the corner of his eye.

Sherlock grimaced at the words, turning away to fiddle with Petri dishes. “I am a bit busy today. But perhaps tonight.”

John practically expected him to follow that up with ' _I'll pencil you in_ ' and bit back a laugh. This was by far the strangest sex talk he'd ever had, but the prospects were incredibly thrilling. “It's a date then,” John said, snapping the newspaper back open with a grin.

Sherlock groaned. “Such a banal turn of phrase.”

“You like me,” John said with confidence. “Even when I'm boring.”

The sounds from the kitchen ceased once more. “Yes,” Sherlock said gently. “I do.”


End file.
